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number of poems.”
    “Interesting. What else would my job entail?”
    Andrew rolled his eyes. “I can just see you writing homemaker tips and poetry, bruder. ”
    Roman paused a moment, then said, “Roses are red, violets are blue, pine is the cheapest wood, oak is straight and true.”
    Roman chuckled and smiled at his brother. Andrew grinned and said, “That’s not bad. Maybe uncle will use it.”
    The affection between the two brothers was evident. Joann wished for a moment that she could joke and laugh with her brothers that way. They were all much older than she was. She had come along as a surprise late in her parents’ lives. Hebron, the youngest of her brothers, had been fifteen when she was born. They were all married and starting their own families by the time she went to school. Her brothers pretty much ignored her while she was growing up. It was only after their parents died that they decided they knew what was best for her.
    Roman clicked his tongue to get Meg to pick up the pace. “Tell me what else I would have to learn.”
    “You would have to proofread the articles that Otis writes or that others send in to be published. You’ll have to attend special meetings in the community in order to report on them, such as the town council meetings and school board meetings. We report the news weekly as well as publish a monthly magazine.”
    “Sounds like a piece of cake.”
    “Do you think so?” If he didn’t value what they did, how could he do the job well?
    When he didn’t say more, she leaned forward to glance at him. His face held a pensive look. Was he thinking about taking the job or rejecting it? If only she could tell.
    Finally, her brother’s lane came into view. By the time they reached the turnoff, the rain had slowed to a few sprinkles. “I’ll get out here,” she said. “Thanks for the lift.”
    Roman stopped the buggy. Joann bolted out the door into the gentle rain and hurried toward the house. Once she gained the cover of the front porch, she watched as he turned the buggy around and drove away. At least she could draw a full breath now that she wasn’t shut in with him.
    What was it about being near him that set her nerves on edge? And how would she be able to work with him day in and day out if he did take the job?
    “Please, Lord, let him say no.”

Chapter Three
    R oman sat at the kitchen table that evening with his parents after supper was done. His conversation with green-eyed Joann earlier that day hadn’t helped him come to a decision. He wasn’t sure what to do. What would be best for him? What would be best for his family?
    Although he lived in the dawdy-haus, a small home built next to his parent’s home for his grandparents before their passing, he normally took his meals with his family. He waited until his younger brother left the kitchen and his mother was busy at the sink before he cleared his throat and said, “ Daed, I need to speak to you.”
    “So speak,” his father replied and took another sip of the black coffee in his cup. Menlo Weaver was a man of few words. Roman’s mother, Marie Rose, turned away from the sink, dried her hands on a dish towel and joined them at the table. Roman realized as he gazed at her worried face that she had aged in the past months, and he knew he was the reason why.
    He took a sip of his own strong, dark coffee. “I spoke with Onkel Otis today,” he said.
    “And?” his mother prompted.
    “He offered me a job.”
    There was no mistaking his father’s surprise. Menlo glanced at his wife. She kept her gaze down. Roman knew then that it hadn’t been his father’s idea. That eased some of his pain. At least his father wasn’t pushing to be rid of him.
    As always, Menlo spoke slowly, weighing his words carefully. “What was your answer, sohn? ”
    Roman knew his father well. He read the inner struggle going on behind his father’s eyes. Menlo didn’t want his son to accept the job, but he also wanted what was best